Best Kept Secrets

"I want to look. Just tell me if you get cold."

 

"I'm not cold."

 

She was making small, yearning sounds even before he

 

lowered his head and closed his lips around her nipple. He

 

sucked on it with masterful skill. His hand moved down to

 

appreciate the curve of her waist, then smoothed over the

 

shape of her hip and thigh. He touched her navel playfully,

 

and lightly scrubbed the area beneath it with his knuckles.

 

He touched the delta of springy hair, and his eyes turned

 

dark.

 

"I want you to come this time," he murmured.

 

"I want to."

 

He slid his hand between her thighs. She raised her hips

 

slightly to accommodate him. She was already wet. He

 

slipped his fingers inside her.

 

"Reede," she gasped with pleasure.

 

"Shh. Just enjoy."

 

His thumb idly fanned back and forth across that vulnerable

 

gem of flesh while he planted kiss after fervent kiss on her

 

fertile mouth.

 

"I think it's about to happen," she panted between kisses.

 

"Not yet. Talk to me. I never get to talk in bed."

 

"Talk?" She couldn't even think. "About what?"

 

"Anything. I just want to hear your voice."

 

"I ... I don't . . ."

 

"Talk, Alex."

 

"I like watching you cook," she blurted.

 

"What?" He chuckled against her lips.

 

"It was very manly, the way you banged and rattled the

 

pans. You're messy. You didn't crack the eggs, you smashed

 

them. Your ineptitude was endearing."

 

"You're crazy."

 

"You're making me crazy."

 

"Am I?"

 

He inched his head down and stroked her belly with his

 

tongue. His thumb continued to finesse her slowly, provocatively,

 

maddeningly, while his fingers slid in and out. Sensations

 

began to bubble warmly within her lower body. The

 

 

 

pressure centered on the idle movement of his thumb, so that

 

when he replaced it with the tip of his tongue, she cried out.

 

She clutched handfuls of his hair and tilted her hips upward

 

toward the heat of his avid mouth, toward the swirling magic

 

of his tongue.

 

Not until the aftershocks had subsided did she open her

 

eyes. His face was bent low over hers. Damp strands of hair

 

clung to her cheeks and neck. He lifted them away and laid

 

them on the pillow.

 

"What does a woman say at a time like this, Reede?"

 

"Nothing," he replied gruffly. "Your face said it all. I've

 

never watched a woman's face before."

 

Alex was deeply touched by his admission, but tried to

 

make light of it. "Good. Then you won't know if I did it

 

right or not."

 

He glanced down at her flushed breasts, at the moisture

 

that had caused her pubic hair to glisten. "You did it right."

 

Lovingly, she combed her fingers through his hair. "It

 

could have happened before it did, you know--like, that

 

evening at the airfield. And the time in Austin when you took

 

me home. I begged you to stay with me that night. Why

 

didn't you?"

 

"Because you wanted me there for the wrong reasons. I

 

wanted a woman, not a little lost girl looking for her daddy."

 

He studied her doubtful expression. "You don't seem convinced."

 

Unable to meet his incisive eyes, she looked at a point

 

beyond his shoulder. "Are you positive that's the reason? Or

 

were you looking for somebody else?"

 

"You don't mean somebody, you mean Celina." Alex

 

turned her head aside. Reede gripped her jaw and forced her

 

to look at him. "Listen to me, Alex. You made me mad as

 

hell by saying what you did the other night, that crap about

 

taking from you what I'd always wanted from Celina. I want

 

you to understand something. We're the only two people here

 

now. There's nobody between us. No ghosts, either. You got

 

that?"

 

 

 

"I think--"

 

"No." He shook his head so emphatically that strands of

 

dark blond hair fell over his green eyes. "Don't just think

 

--know. You're the only woman in my head right now.

 

You're the only woman mat's been in my head since I met

 

you. You're the only woman I'm dying to fuck every minute

 

I'm awake and that I dream about fucking when I'm asleep.

 

"I'm too old for you. It's stupid and probably wrong for

 

me to want you. It's complicated as hell. But, right or wrong,

 

no matter whose daughter you are, I want you." He imbedded

 

himself firmly inside her. "Understand?" He pushed higher,

 

harder, hotter, and groaned, "Understand?"

 

He made himself understood.

 

 

 

Junior woke up before sunrise, a rarity for him. He'd had

 

a bad night. Following Reede's suggestion, he'd spent several

 

hours with Stacey. Her physician had given her a sedative,

 

but it hadn't worked well enough. Each time Junior thought

 

she was asleep and left his chair at her bedside, she would

 

wake up, clutch his hand, and beg him not to leave her. He

 

hadn't gotten home until well after midnight. Then he'd slept

 

fitfully, worrying about Alex.

 

The instant his eyes opened, he reached for the telephone

 

on his nightstand and dialed the Westerner Motel. He instructed

 

the clerk, who was tired and cranky during those

 

waning minutes of his long shift, to connect him with her

 

room. The phone rang ten times.

 

Breaking the connection, he called the sheriffs office. He

 

was told that Reede hadn't come in yet. He asked to be

 

patched into his mobile unit, but the switchboard operator

 

told him it wasn't in use. He called Reede's house and got

 

a busy signal.

 

Frustrated, he got out of bed and began to pull on clothes.

 

He couldn't stand not knowing where Alex was. He would

 

find out for himself, starting with Reede.

 

He crept past his parents' bedroom, although he heard

 

stirrings behind the door. He was sure Angus would want to

 

 

 

talk to him about the deal with Judge Wallace concerning his

 

marriage to Stacey. Junior didn't feel up to discussing that

 

yet.

 

He left the house and climbed into his Jag. It was a clear

 

but cold morning. The drive to Reede's house took him no

 

more than a few minutes. He was glad to see that the Blazer

 

was still parked out front and that smoke was curling out of

 

the chimney. Reede was an early riser. Hopefully, he had a

 

pot of coffee already perking.

 

Junior jogged across the porch and knocked on the front

 

door. He stood there, hopping from one foot to another and

 

blowing on his hands in an effort to get warm. After a long

 

wait, Reede pulled open the door. He was wearing only a

 

pair of jeans and a rumpled, sleepy, disagreeable expression.

 

"What the hell time is it?"

 

"Don't tell me I got you out of bed," Junior said incredulously,

 

opening the screen door and stepping into the living

 

room. "It's late for you, isn't it?"

 

"What are you doing here? What's going on?"

 

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me. Alex hasn't

 

answered her phone all night. Do you have any idea where

 

she is?"

 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the pallet in front

 

of the hearth, then a movement. Turning slightly, he saw her

 

standing in the hallway leading to Reede's bedroom. Her hair

 

was tousled, her lips full and red, her legs bare. She was

 

wearing the top to the pajama set he'd given Reede when

 

he'd had his appendectomy. She looked wanton and well-screwed.

 

Junior fell back a step as the breath left his body. Slumping

 

against the wall, he looked toward the ceiling and uttered a

 

short laugh.

 

Reede laid a hand on his arm. "Junior, I--"

 

Junior angrily shook off his friend's hand. "It wasn't

 

enough you had her mother, was it? You had to have her,

 

too."

 

"It's not like that," Reede said in a steely voice.

 

 

 

"No? Then, you tell me, what's it like? You gave me the

 

green light the other night. You said you didn't want her."

 

"I said nothing of the kind."

 

"Well, you damn sure didn't say hands off. You moved

 

faster than a sidewinder when you found out I was interested,

 

didn't you? What was your rush? Were you afraid that if she

 

slept with me first, she'd never want to give up quality for

 

low life?"

 

"Junior, stop it!" Alex cried.

 

Junior didn't even hear her. He was focused on Reede.

 

"Why is it, Reede, that whatever I want, you take? Football

 

trophies, my own father's respect. You didn't even want

 

Celina anymore, but you made damn sure I didn't get her,

 

didn't you?"

 

"Shut up," Reede snarled, taking a threatening step forward.

 

Junior aimed his finger at the center of Reede's chest. "Stay

 

away from me, you hear? Just stay the hell away from me."

 

He slammed out the front door. The racket echoed through

 

the small house. After the Jag's roar had faded, Reede headed

 

toward the kitchen. "Want some coffee?"

 

Alex was stunned by what Junior had said, and even more

 

shocked by Reede's cavalier reaction. She ran into the

 

kitchen. Coffee grounds showered from the metal scoop when

 

she grabbed his arm and spun him around.

 

"Before I fall completely in love with you, Reede, there's

 

something I've got to ask one final time." She took a sharp

 

breath. "Did you kill my mother?"

 

Several heartbeats later he replied, "Yes."

 

 

 

Forty-three

 

 

 

 

 

Fergus Plummet stood at the side of the bed, looking down

 

at his sleeping wife, his body quivering with indignation.

 

"Wanda, wake up." His imperious tone of voice could have

 

awakened the dead.

 

 

 

Wanda opened her eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.

 

"Fergus, what time--" Everything sprang into clarity when

 

she saw what he was holding in his hand--five incriminating

 

one-hundred-dollar bills.

 

 

 

"Get up," he ordered before marching from the room.

 

 

 

Trembling in fear, Wanda got out of bed. She dressed as

 

quickly as she could and ruthlessly raked her hair back, not

 

wanting him to find more fault with her.

 

 

 

He was waiting for her in the kitchen, sitting straight and

 

tall at the table. Like a penitent, she timorously approached

 

him.

 

 

 

"Fergus, I ... I was saving it as a surprise."

 

 

 

"Silence," he bellowed. "Until I tell you to speak, you

 

will remain silent and soul-searching." His accusing eyes

 

pierced straight through her. She bowed her head in shame.

 

 

 

"Where did you get it?"

 

 

 

"It came in the mail yesterday."

 

 

 

"In the mail?"

 

 

 

Her head wobbled up and down in a frantic nod of affirmation.

 

"Yes. In that envelope." It was lying on the table

 

beside his cup of coffee.

 

 

 

 

 

"Why did you hide it from your husband, to whom you

 

are supposed to be submissive, according to holy scripture?"

 

"I," she began, then stopped to wet her lips, "I was saving

 

it to give you as a surprise."

 

His eyes smoldered with suspicion. "Who sent it?"

 

Wanda raised her head and looked at him stupidly.' 'I don't

 

know."

 

He closed his eyes and swayed as though entranced.' 'Satan, I

 

command you to release her from your evil power. You have

 

control of her lying tongue. Give it back, in the name--"

 

"No!" Wanda shouted. "I'm not lying. I thought it probably

 

came from one of those folks you've been talking to on

 

the phone about what you did out at the Minton ranch."

 

He was out of his chair like a shot. Rounding the table,

 

he bore down on her. "How dare you mention that? Didn't

 

I tell you never, never to utter a word about that?"

 

"I forgot," she said, cowering. "I thought maybe the

 

money came from somebody who appreciated what you did.''

 

"I know who it came from," he hissed.

 

"Who?"

 

"Come with me." He grabbed her hand and dragged her

 

toward the door that connected the kitchen to the garage.

 

"Where are we going, Fergus?"

 

"Wait and see. I want the sinners to meet face-to-face."

 

"The kids are--"

 

"God will watch over them until we get back."

 

With Wanda sitting shivering in the front seat beside him,

 

Plummet drove through the sleeping streets of town. At the

 

highway, he headed west. He seemed unaware of the cold,

 

warmed by his coat of righteousness. When he took the turnoff,

 

Wanda stared at him in total disbelief, but he shot her a

 

look of such condemnation that she wisely refrained from

 

uttering a peep.

 

He pulled up in front of the large house and ordered his

 

wife to get out of the car. His footsteps landed hard on the

 

hollow steps and his knock rang out loudly in the stillness of

 

early morning. No one answered his first knock, so he

 

 

 

pounded harder on the door. When still no one came, he

 

emphatically banged on the window nearest him.

 

Nora Gail herself pulled open the door and aimed the barrel

 

of a small handgun directly at his forehead. "Mister, you'd

 

better have damned good reason for beating down my door

 

and getting me out of bed at this ungodly hour."

 

Fergus raised his hands above his bowed head and called

 

upon God and a host of angels to cleanse the sinner of her

 

wrongdoing.

 

Nora Gail pushed him aside and moved toward her sister.

 

They faced each other. Nora Gail, her platinum hair radiant,

 

looked marvelous for someone who had just gotten out of

 

bed. The constant use of expensive night creams guaranteed

 

her a glowing complexion. She was resplendent in a rose

 

satin robe trimmed with seed pearls. By contrast, Wanda

 

looked like an overweight brown wren.

 

"It's cold out here," Nora Gail remarked, as though they'd

 

seen each other only yesterday. "Let's go inside." She led

 

her gawking sister across the threshold of the whorehouse.

 

Nudging Fergus in his skinny ribs as she went past, she said,

 

"Preacher, if you don't shut up that noisy praying, I'm going

 

to shoot your balls off, you hear?"

 

"Ah-men!" he cried, suddenly ending his prayer.

 

"Thank you," Nora Gail said with amusement. "I'm sure

 

I can use the prayers. Come on in. I've been wanting to talk

 

to you."

 

Several minutes later, they were collected around the table

 

in her kitchen, which looked very ordinary and not the least bit sinful. Coffee had been brewed and poured into fine china

 

cups. Fergus commanded Wanda to avoid it, as though it was

 

a poisonous concoction.

 

"You can't defeat us," Fergus said heatedly. "God is on

 

our side, and He's sorely provoked at you, a whore who leads

 

weaker brothers astray."

 

"Save it," Nora Gail said with a casual wave of her hand.

 

"I fear God, all right, but what's between Him and me is

 

personal, and no business of yours. The only thing that scares

 

me about you, preacher, is your stupidity."